Life Is Funny Like This
by MyLatte
Summary: I wonder about Alfred. What really happened to him? There has to be more than what he told me." A civilian's perspective on meeting a nation.


This is really random, but I've always wanted to write a Hetalia fic based on a civilian's perspective on meeting a country. So, yes, this lovely little brainchild was born.

**It's about WW2, so if you are sensitive about that, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia.

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**Life Is Funny Like This**

Something interesting happened today. Well, it wasn't actually that interesting, but it seemed to stick in my mind for the rest of the day for some reason, and I found myself thinking about what occurred.

So, let's set the scene. I'm in the grocery store doing my weekly shopping.

I heard a few people whispering about someone, which was weird on its own, but they all seemed to be talking about the same person. I thought they were talking about me, so I checked over my appearance to make sure I didn't have anything stuck to my dress or in my hair or anything. I didn't seem to, so I dismissed it and continued with my shopping.

I was in aisle nine, bent down trying to reach a box. I picked up the box, but when I stood up, I bumped into someone who was taking something off a shelf next to me. I turned to try and apologise, but nothing came out when I saw him.

He was covered in heaps and heaps of small red scars. They were covering every inch of his arms and extended up his neck and onto his cheeks. His left arm was in a cast, and his glasses were taped up in the middle, just like you see in movies. I didn't realize I was staring and gaping until he brought it to my attention.

"I know I'm in a terrible state," He laughed. I felt my cheeks heat up and I clamped my mouth shut. "But I have to do my shopping, right?"

I giggled, almost hysterically. "Oh! I'm s-sorry! I didn't…I mean, I wasn't…"

He held out his hand during my rambling and just grinned, "It's fine, seriously. I'm Alfred, nice to meet you."

I shook his hand and smiled back, "I'm Sandra."

"I know you want to ask what happened, I don't mind, go ahead."

I sighed with relief. This could be a touchy subject though, I had to tread carefully. It didn't work though, and all that came out was: "What happened?!"

"I got in a fight," He answered, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal. "This wasn't the worst though, another guy, Ivan was heaps worse than me."

"A-are you serious?" I exclaimed, "But your injuries a-are pretty b-bad!" He just grinned back at me. "Did you report this to the police? You could get the guys arrested!"

"Oh, no, it's not that bad." He waved off my concern with his hand. "Plus, the police have so much on their hands already, the war only ended a couple of years ago, they are still doing so much. I can deal with this." He leant in close to me when he said this, so that our foreheads were almost touching. I gulped and tried to look away, but couldn't. His eyes held me fixated in my spot. They were so…unusual. It wasn't the colour that interested me, though they were lovely – a perfect blue, not like that lifeless grey-blue that I had. But it was - how do I put it? – the way they looked? He looked no older than nineteen, but his eyes showed something else. They looked almost sad, and much wiser than I'd even seen, like he'd experienced way too much for any one that young.

I realized I'd probably been staring too long, and pulled out of my daze, blushing slightly. I blinked a couple of times, trying to remember what he had said. Oh yeah, it was about the war. It confused me a little the way he mentioned the word _war _with such ease. No one I knew even wanted to mutter the word, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. "You still shouldn't have to deal with that…"

"Ah well," He said. "Anyway, I better continue my shopping. It's been nice meeting you, Sandra." And then he turned away and walked off into another aisle, and I kept shopping too, like nothing had ever happened.

But as I write this tonight, I wonder about Alfred. What really happened to him? There has to be more than what he told me. That brief meeting had really stuck with me, mainly because there seemed to be something different about him. He had this air about him, as if he had suffered, yet he was still so optimistic. I had never heard about any fight that he could have been involved in, but then again, I don't really pay attention to the news. I would like to know his full story, and this encounter is probably going to stick with me the rest of my life, but I am probably never going to meet him again. Life is funny like that.

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**Thanks for reading :D I hope you enjoyed!**


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